today is the day… costumes and candy and all such crap connected… oh my… survival in bat country is to a degree perilous, to be sure, but rather annoyingly introspective… though maybe that is what older life is all about… the clattering of treats is threatening to make this a good weekend after all… pumpkin carving might be a good idea tonight with pizza… random real world interlude, there, I suppose… listen to the nightmare gothic Halloween mix as well… didn’t bring it to work, though, and I seriously doubt that I could manage to get ahold of it before the end of the day… gotta go to Radio Shack after work, but had a decent fast food lunch… there are few things that inspire hostility like closed-minded minions who think they know the world… distraction is the name …
out of Context;
‘we are greedy for trying to understand even that which does not need to be known. taken with the ability to undermine our own future for a piece of the puzzle now…’
out of Context;
‘the urge to resist a system that already tries to bypass our functional approach to making the world unite, a way beneath the skin to condemn ourselves to the purity of conflict and detention, and we always come to do it to ourselves before others… only as a tease to what horrors that it could so easily be… this biological technology stinks of rot and ill-advised plans… unforgiving forces take our bones and bodies to declare what real is and has to be…’
“Any work of art that can be understood is the product of journalism.”
~ Tristan Tzara; writer, poet, artist, Dada innovator.
~Hunter S. Thompson on the music industry.
Nine times…nines times, I have fought for these threads. the clerk nodded, absentmindedly.
seemed to agree with every word I said at-large. clearing his throat, he calmly replied cautiously.
What trouble would you have, sir? my defiant stand made him quite clearly affected, a silent stand.
the lone vagrant diatribe cautiously relents into the darkness of his forgotten intellect, a swine standing. there where a man just stood, relenting against a painful system infecting him. his twisting made leaps into the insecure nature of impact, as the crutches fell away to the floor, and he faced thunderous approach into a concrete surface. the flames ignited through a human anger flew and spewed to the floor. the scream at the end left no doubt at the intrigue in the wake of the apparent. Did you like that, cripple? he was not afraid to …
out of Context;
‘the dirty and nasty traits shot into the culture through society’s veins to affect generations and generations until we defeat ourselves letting those-whom-are-not-to-be to take our places as the cattle…’
amid the hectic pace presented by the wankers, buggers and besotted idiots out there, the truth still lies there borne of grief and shame, and few are impressed enough to pick it up again. these angles of attack and gain are wrong enough to be considered avant-garde, but weak enough to not be considered at all by most people.
an artistic interpretation of one boy’s life as he grows up to discover that there is no such thing as manhood, and the adult responses he has come to dislike will eventually become his own.
out of Context;
‘the narrowed focus of being the truly deceived, manipulated from simpletons planning their checker board tests of strength, and ages remaining to discover what falsehoods can be revealed behind the masks playing havoc behind the scenes… the horrid fantasy world that becomes the game board in action… mocking reality for the fears inherent in other minds…’
